To Be A Man
by Brooklyn's Miracle
Summary: The journey of a boy; the story of a man.
1. Chapter1: 1887,1880: Dora and Reece

**Chapter 1: 1877 – 1880, Dora and Reese**

_Outside of Kilkenny, Ireland, 1880_

Dora was humming softly to herself, holding firmly to the broom as she swept last night's dusting of snow from the steps on the porch. Winter refused to leave this year, though it was already nearly June, and the cool breeze had tinged her cheeks to a rosy pink, which only assisted in helping her glow as she swayed, her skirt moving with her as she swayed, with the exception of the material covering her very pregnant belly.

From one of the bushes that ran along the side of the small farmhouse, the song of a bird carried towards Dora and she stopped her movement to listen, a contented smile on her pouting lips.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, her right hand dropping to her belly, and her eyes following. With a smile, she rubbed her great stomach. "Go ahead. It doesn't hurt. Kick, and kick, and kick – Toss your wee fists against me."

The babe had apparently heard, for she felt the kick within her, and sighed. "Yes. It's when you stop I get frightened."

Dora leaned the broom against the porch railing, listening again to the sweet song of the bird. After a moment she touched her hand to her belly again, and spoke to it gently. "Listen! It's Mr. Robin. Wouldn't you like to wake up in the world every morning and hear that?" She laughed as there was a kick once again.

"What if we was like that, and laid our babies inside eggs? What a great large egg you'd have to be!" she paused for a moment, thoughtful, and giggled. "And what a silly thing I'd look like sitting on that."

"And what a silly thing I am to think such a thing. It's no wonder they all lose patience with me. "Go down and sleep in the kitchen," your father says to me, "I'm black and blue from you thrashing around all night!"" Dora sighed, sitting on the top of the steps, and reaching to pull her thin shawl around her shoulders a little tighter. "All I remember when I woke up is that I was running away from something wild from out in the woods."

She took a moment, inspecting her baby bulge, and taking in the size of it. "But you feel so hearty. Much heartier than the first one, the girl – "Ruth" I called her, because I love that story. My mother told it to me time and again. The part when Rush says to Naomi, "For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God." And I'll tell you that story, too, I promise. Just be a good baby and live." Dora gave a quiet "Oooh!" as the baby flailed again.

"But you feel like you've got the fists of a boy – no name like Ruth for you, ruffian." She laughed. "I'll call you Aidan, yes. Because that is your uncle's name, too, your father's brother, and we should curry his favor." Leaning back against the railing, Dora continued. "But maybe you've got the fists of a girl like my great-grandmother. She was a tough one, they say. And my father was the apple of her eye. He named me for her, his grandmother, Dora Ann. Your great-great-grandmother. Father says that she kept the family going when this was still a wild place before civilization come, when there was nothing but unkempt moors and wild animals. "Here we will build us a house and make the best." That's what she said."

"She lived two centuries, she did. And so will we, God willing. And if you live as long as her, you'd live until… nineteen hundred and eighty… something." Dora's pale blue eyes got wide with excitement as she exclaimed, "Imagine! And your children might live in a century that starts with a two, not a one. The twenty-first it'll be. And she was born in the eighteenth century. And I'm in the middle, looking forwards and back."

Dora stopped, as she spotted a man walking up the pathway to the house, and stood, brushing herself off. She smiled, and waved as he came closer into view. Reece, her handsome Reece.

He walked towards her, in his work clothes with his pack over one shoulder, and his axe in his left hand, his right pulling a wagon that had chopped wood piled onto it. Reece left the wagon beside the steps, climbing up towards her, and with a weak smile, kissed her on the cheek silently, and disappeared inside.

Dora looked after him, her hands on her belly, and the smile from before gone. After a moment, she picked up the broom, and returned to sweeping. She mustn't let his tiredness affect her. He would be fine after his nap, surely he would.

"Here we will build us a house." She murmered.

"And I'm like a house myself, aren't I, with you living inside of me, a house of flesh and blood—" Dora stopped, her breath catching in her throat, and lay the broom down, wrapping her arms around herself. "_You must not die!_ Don't follow your poor sister. Ruth was born before sunrise, and gone before midday. She was too tiny, like a bird. And already you've outlived the other one, who much have loved heaven so much that this earth had no appeal at all.

"It looks like nothing," she says, "It wasn't all that far along." And she wrapped it up in a cloth and took it away in a basin."

"But you'll be born fat and happy and fully formed." Dora's lilting voice began to raise in pitch as her desperation increased. "You won't be like wee Ruth and die in my arms. You'll live and be a strapping young fellow or a beautiful girl. And then your father will not be making me sleep in the kitchen after something chased me in my sleep."

She paused, taking a moment to breath in the cold air, and sighed deeply. "I don't mean to say that your father is unkind or – But they do lose patience with me. The very first morning he showed up in church – wasn't he the most handsome thing I'd ever laid eyes upon!"

_Church of Canice, Kilkenny, Ireland, 1877_

Dora followed her mother down the aisle of the church as the other people of their community filed in. They took their usual place in the third row on the left, right near the center aisle, and sat. Dora removed her jacked carefully, and adjusted her bonnet over her long blonde curls, and folded her hands over her lap carefully to wait for her father to begin his sermon.

It was a few seconds before she noticed the buzz of conversation that had begun. Small whispers, and hushed voices carried towards her, and she strained to keep facing forwards, so as not to upset her mother.

"Yes, Reece Conlon…"

"…back from Dublin this past week."

"It's Big Samuel's oldest son…"

"…It's been years, has it not?"

As quickly as the whispers had begun, they died down to a silence that was nearly more our of place than the whispers. It was as if the entire congregation was holding their breath. And then came the footsteps. On the old wooden floor of the little church, the slow and steady footfalls of a man were moving down the aisle, and just before Dora thought she would see the man, they stopped.

Her father moved up towards the pulpit and the music stopped. Joining with the throng, she rose, and took the opportunity of moving to look to her right.

Sitting perfectly across the aisle, and staring directly back at her with a pair of riveting green eyes, was the most stately and handsome man she'd ever seen. His dark hair was combed back in a manner appropriate for mass, but the ends around his ears and neck were curling, and his strong face seemed expressionless. All except for his eyes, which appraised her in such a way that she was left feeling as though all of her secrets were bared.

It took all the strength in the world for her to tear her eyes away from him, and as she sat with her mother, Dora could feel the burning in her cheeks that would not fade. Her fathers words droned on, and it was all she could do not to forget to say the appropriate responses with the rest of the congregation.

Occasionally she would steal a look at the new boy, and without fail, each time she did, he was gazing raptly at her. 'So bold,' she thought, 'As if we share a secret.'

The organ began to play her father's favorite hymn, the one her mother wished he would never pick because there was that line at the end that made the boys snicker. Dora hadn't understood why they snickered because her friend Ellie had explained it to her.

She rose, joining in with the voices of those around her, until she heard the voice of the boy across the aisle, and then stopped, turned, and watched him, smiling.

"Go labour on, spend and be spent.

Thy joy to do the Father's will…"

Her mother grabbed her wrist and turned her to the front and Dora sang softly, so she might still be able to hear the voice from the handsome gentleman. 'Would he snicker?' she wondered, and as the line drew near, she looked at him carefully out of the corner of her eye, and watched.

"Soon shalt thou hear the Bridgegroom's voice,

The midnight peal, 'Behold, I come,'"

And he winked, grinning at her.

Unable to control herself, amidst the snickers of the young boys and the last chords from the organ, Dora giggled.

_Outside of Kilkenny, Ireland, 1880_

"Then he winks right at me, right at that moment, and grins at me bold as brass, and in such a charming way. It was wicked, I know," Dora sighed, clutching the broom to her chest, "But it was so, so—well, are there even words to describe what I felt?"

"Then he spoke to me afterwards out front after church, and no one had ever spoken like that, like – well, like flirting, I suppose you would call it. Like somehow he and I were different from all the rest, not so stiff as older folks. New, somehow, modern."

Dora stopped, whistful, and looked at the door her husband had gone through. "He took my breath away. He was so handsome, and he still is. So you'll be good-looking! That's a good reason to live." She paused, quiet for a moment.

"Oh, I knew it was a sin, but your father said that he loved me so much. Afterwards, that first time – we were in a little dale in the woods – I was frightened and started to cry so he was very tender and silly. He kissed my ear and whispered that he had something important to tell me. "What?" I asked, and he said, "Behold, I come."

Dora's eyebrows furrowed as she thought hard, and looked down at her belly, and caressed it absently. "And my mother told me that I was a foolish girl and that all that was saving me from disgrace was the position of Reece's father in the church and in the town. That if I had sinned with near anyone else, that father could have disowned me. That if Big Samuel hadn't been such a powerful man that my life could have been over. So Reece's father and my father took charge and here we are." She motioned to the bleak landscape, the sparse trees and dusting of snow, and the rolling hills that went for miles.

"But if you live, all can be right again. My father would have another grandchild and you would be the apple of his eye maybe, just like he was with his grandmother. And I would love you, and make you so welcome in my life in a way that he could not welcome me in his." Dora pleaded, looking up at the sky. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and her words became a whisper. "He says I'm a useless thing, and that I tricked him into marriage with poor wee ruth and I'm good for nothing now. And I know it's because he's working so hard and is so tired and he doesn't want to be working for his father because his older brother's the one who'll inherit it all in the end and here I am waking him up because something's after me in my sleep! I'm just a silly girl, but –"

She stopped, her shoulders dropping as tears streamed down her cheeks. A few moments passed, and the only sound was her breathing and wiping at tears. Then Dora straightened, her eyes shining with something unknown. "But if you keep kicking, just kick and kick and come kicking right out of me – Then your father will look at me in that sweet way again, and my own father will truly forgive me for being a wicked girl, for bringing shame upon him and his ministry, and everything, everything, everything will be as happy as – as –."

In the bushes, the Robin began to sing again, and a new bout of tears welled in her eyes. She hugged her belly, and looked out at the setting sun.

"Oh, _please!_"


	2. Chapter2:  1883,1884: The Storm

A/N: Ongoing casting call posted in my profile for this story. The lullaby is a real Gaelic lullaby.

Chapter 2 – The Storm

_September 20, 1883_

"Mud!" Aidan screamed, bright eyes shimmering in the sun of the late afternoon sun. He looked at his mother, giggling.

"That's my boy." Dora called back from the opposite side of the garden. Partially shaded by the church that loomed over her, she looked tired, and ready to burst from the midsection, where her pregnant belly loomed. Her long blonde hair had been tied up, but sections of it were falling loose around her elegant face as she gathered the vegetables into the large basket at her side.

Aidan shaped the piles of mud around him into little balls, and watched as the moisture drained slowly until they looked like very burnt cookies. Then he called out to his mother, "All done!"

Dora looked up and over at her son again, and smiled. "What a good wee cook you are Aidan! And only just turned three."

Aidan glowed, and went to pick up one of his 'cookies' for her, but it merely crumbled in his hands. His grin disappeared, his lower lip quivered, and his eyes turned to her, desperate.

"Now don't fret over mud cookies. Will you help your Mam with baking real cookies when your little brother or sister joins us? You know, hopefully they will be here soon." She sat back on her haunches and rubbed the apron over her belly with her dirty hands.

Aidan smiled, "Yes Mam." He jumped to his feet and darted as quickly he could around the large garden plot. Farther down the hill from the church he could see his Grammy Clara and a few of the sisters working in the orchard. He dropped to his knees next to his mother, and looked at him for permission to touch her belly as well. She nodded, and he asked "Is it going to be a baby?" although he'd heard the answer many times.

She nodded, looking between her son and her belly as she spoke. "Yes, my bitty. A wee boy or girl for you to take care of and help grow to be big and strong like you." She tousled his hair as he rubbed her stomach delicately, and then moved to stand. Once she had, Dora dusted her hands off on her apron and bent down to pick up the basket of vegetables.

Halfway bent, she stopped, mouth half open, eyes wide, as a warm burst of liquid came out from between her legs.

It was as though the entire world was suddenly moving much faster than it was supposed to. Dora screamed, and Grammy Clara and the sisters came running. The sisters took Clara into the rectory while Grammy Clara picked him up and ran into the church to find Grandpa Clarence, who Grammy sent off in quite a hurry to find the midwife and Aidan's Dad.

Then Grammy Clara did something crazy, Aidan thought. Although he could hear the nuns calling for water outside as well as she must be able, she sat him down at the front of the church facing the big cross on the wall, and began to pray. After a very long time, Aidan was scooped back into her arms, and they ran towards the rectory as well, although upon entering, Aidan understood why Grammy Clara had taken so long to get there.

It was insanity. He could hear his Mam screaming and crying, though he could not see her in the front room, and the many ladies that were moving furniture and going in and out of his Grammy and Grandpa's room kept giving him such sad looks that he couldn't help but burst into tears with a wail.

"Mammy!" he sobbed, as Grammy Clara tried to rock him. "I want my Mammy."

The door was flung open, and Grandpa Clarence entered in his funny white collared shirt, wiping the sweat from his brow with a hanky, and then looking incredulously at the women. "All of you out!" He cried, and all the women froze.

Only Dora's screams from the room beyond were heard. "I want my Reece! Now!" she shrieked.

Grammy Clara turned to her husband, "But the baby..?"

"Oh Clara." He shook his head and stepped to the side to allow a plump woman with rosy cheeks to pass him. "I've brought the midwife."

Much of the chaos resumed for a few moments, as the frizzy plump lady pushed and shoved her way into the room, and Grandpa Clarence pushed and shoved all the nuns through the way he had just entered. He then resigned himself to sit on the couch, and looked at his wife. "I couldn't find him. But they said they'd send him when he came in from the field."

Dora gave a shrill scream from the other room, and Grammy Clara moved to hand Aidan over to his grandfather, which started his wailing again, and so she stopped, taking a seat. The midwife shut the door to the room, and the screams were muffled.

Aidan's cries did not cease. "Mammy…" He cried, his voice scratchy and fading with every repetition, until after an hour or so, he finally drifted to sleep, only to be woken once again by a scream much louder than the rest. "Mam!" He yelped, struggling to sit up.

There was silence, with the exception of his movements, and Grammy Clara shushed him. From behind the closed door, there was a cry, quieter though, than Dora had been, and Aidan's grandparents looked at one another.

"What?" Aidan asked. "What?" When he received no response still, fresh tears flooded his already drained eyes.

Grandpa Clarence just smiled and stood, moving into the bedroom. There was a few moments of silence, and then he returned, and silenced Aidan. "Shush boy. Here. Put your arms out."

Aidan wiggled around in his Grammy's lap, and looked up, confused. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and sniffed before putting his arms out as instructed. Grandpa Clarence set the bundle into his arms, and Grammy helped Aidan support it as he brought it close to him and looked down.

Aidan looked for a few moments and the pink lump in the blanket. It looked like a piglet, but with a whole bunch of dark curly things on the top of what appeared to be it's head. Aidan tilted his head slightly to the right and then looked at his Grammy. "What is it?"

She laughed, the same tinkling laugh that Dora had. "It's a baby. Your new little baby brother."

He looked at it again, studying it. It had a nose, and a little bit of a mouth. And eyes, although it wasn't looking at him. It was quite ugly, and Aidan wasn't sure if he wanted a little baby brother if it was going to look so scary.

"It's so small, isn't it?" asked Grammy Clara, with a smile. "It's hard to believe you were that size once, isn't it?"

"Did I look like that?" Aidan asked, worried.

"No." she laughed, and he sighed with relief. "You were bald."

Aidan's eyes went wide as he stared at the baby. He almost didn't hear what she'd said, as he now couldn't help but be in awe. This was what had been in his Mammy's tummy. This was his, personal, private, own, new little brother. He smiled, and put his finger on the baby's nose.

"Hello little baby."

_August 1884_

The choir was singing. In the same church that they'd met in years prior, the sounds of joyous overtones echoed beneath the domed roof, filtering unseen through the rays of colored light from the stained windows. Dora and Reece were both assembled with the mass of men and women at the front of the church for the choir rehearsal. Dora, on the farthest right with the women, and Reece, positioned at the back of the left side, as he was too tall to be in front of anybody.

"Go labor on, spend and be spent –

Thy joy to do the Father's will:

It is the way the Master went;

Should not the servant tread it still?"

Cheeks flushed at the memory that accompanied the song, Dora subtly strained her head to try to make eye contact with Reece. He would laugh, she was sure, when he remembered what this song had been to their relationship. Reece, however, seemed not to notice her attempts, and stared resolutely at Clara, Dora's mother, while she conducted the choir.

"Toil on and in thy toil rejoice;

For toil comes rest: for exile, home;

Soon shalt thou hear the Bridgegroom's voice,

The midnight peal, "Behold, I come!" Amen."

Unable to control herself at the memory of his winking, Dora laughed, unable to hear Clara dismissing everybody from the practice.

"Dora!" Reece snapped sharply.

She looked up at him with dancing eyes, trying to be solemn, but still giggling as the choir dispersed. She moved to him, cheeks flushed, and whispered, "I'm so wicked. Will I go to hell, do you think?"

Reece looked at her incredulously, "Don't be silly." He began to walk down the aisle to leave the church.

Dora moved to follow him. "Oh, Reece—" she began, and was quickly cut off.

"Only old fools like your father think that way any-more." He said stiffly, and opened the door outside.

The natural light from outside flooded in, and beyond one could see the size of Kilkenny in all its little glory. Rows of small cottages and little buildings all spread out from the main street, getting more destitute looking as they went to the east, and more grand and beautiful as the roads traveled west.

Atop a small curve of hill sat the church, the graveyard to the right, and a small beaten road to the left that led out into the country. On the other side of the graveyard, swinging on a rope suspended by a large tree, several children were playing. They all appeared to be between the ages of four and six, and were screaming and laughing with delight.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, and dark clouds seemed to be moving in quickly with the help of the gusting wind. "It feels like rain." Dora glanced at Reece and then the sky. "We should go and collect –"

"They're just playing, they're fine." Reece mumbled, digging for his pipe. He found it and set it between his lips, searching now for the little tin of tobacco he kept.

"But…" Dora stopped, uncertainly staring at one of the boys in the distance.

"Dora." Reece stopped looking through his pockets to stare at her. "Dear.."

After a moment of silent eye contact, she meagerly asked, "But if it rains?"

"He's not sugar. He won't melt."

"But he could catch his death!" she exclaimed, and started down the stairs.

"Don't be so silly!" Hands in the air, Reece's green eyes were wild with frustration. "You mustn't coddle him." He ordered, looking down at her sternly.

Dora flushed and looked away, only to spot one of the children. "Look, they see us!"

A young boy, his blonde hair a tangled mess, came running towards them. One of his suspenders had come loose, and his flat cap was lopsided. He did not slow down as he reached them, instead gave a yell of "Mammy! Dad!" and launched himself into the air at his father.

Reece, not missing a beat, caught the boy mid air and spun him around. Smiling, he tossed his son into the air.

"Careful!" Dora started. "Don't—"

"He won't break." Reece silenced her with a frown, and then turned his attention back to Aidan. "How's my little man?"

Dora smiled weakly at her son as Reece set him down. "Are you being a good boy?"

"We found a robin's egg!" Aidan exclaimed, triumphant.

Reece leaned down a bit. "Was it red?" he teased, his hands on his thighs.

"No!" Aidan laughed. "Blue!"

"A blue robin's egg?" Reece pretended to ponder and scratched his head. "That some rare, that's special!"

Catching onto the joke, Aidan shook his head with a wide grin. "Silly."

After a moment of silence, Dora stepped closer to her son. "Do you know why this is a special day?"

Aidan thought long and hard for a moment. "A birthday..?" he offered, careful.

Dora laughed. "It's your great-grandmother's birthday, that's right! So your Grammy Clara's Mammy. Her name was Dora too, just like me, and she was born a century ago."

"That's a hundred?"

Reece interjected with a grin. "Yes, it's a hundred years."

There was a shout from one of the boys over by the tree. A young boy, slightly taller and stronger looking than Aidan was calling his name.

"Can I go Dad?" Aidan asked hopefully. "Frankie –"

Reece nodded and waved him on, but Dora's eyes grew wide with worry. "Aidan, stop!"

Aidan stopped, silent as he looked back and forth between his mother and his father, not knowing which of his parents to obey. Dora continued, "Come back now, it's going to rain."

Reece silenced her with a look, and turned to his son. "Go on and play with Frankie now, son, you'll be fine."

After a moment of continuing to look back and forth between his parents, Aidan turned slowly, and when he was not stopped again, began to run back to the boys playing with the rope in the tree. The pair at the base of the steps stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"Reece." Dora began, tentative.

"You don't need to pamper him so."

"There's thunder in the air." As though on cue, there was a crash of thunder, louder now and closer, though unseen. She pulled her shawl tight and wrapped her arms around her. "I want to take him home."

"Let the poor boy be." Reece said, turning to her. "He hardly gets to spend time with any one his own age, the way you coddle him."

A bolt of lightning flashed nearby, and the thunder followed almost instantaneously. After a few seconds more and small droplets of water, hardly noticeable had begun to fall sparsely from the sky. But it was all Dora needed. "Look, see?" she held out her wet hand. "We should go. We still need to pick wee Micah up from Missus O'Grady, and have to walk back home. It's dangerous!"

"Dangerous?" he cried, exasperated. "Don't be such an old woman."

"But it's going to storm!"

"And what of it?" Reece motioned to the playing children. "They are all just having fun. Must you always ruin it?"

As if on cue, the pack of boys beneath the tree began to disperse. Several women, either their mothers or nannies, had called, and as his playmates were summoned, Aidan was hurrying their way, playing with a stick. Taking his hand, Reece looked pointedly at Dora. "We love a good storm, don't we son." And turned away from her.

Dora stood at the base steps, watching as her husband and oldest son walked away from her down the hill. Rain began to fall more steadily, and as her hair began to cling to her face and shoulders, Dora finally began to follow.

They walked in front of her the whole way, pausing only when she stopped at the O'Grady household. As they all stood beneath the shelter of the porch overhang, Aidan was oblivious to the tension between his parents, and once Mrs. O'Grady had handed out baby Micah to his mother, the silent party began down the street again.

Later that night, the storm crashed about the small farmhouse with a fury. Dora stood, wrapped in her shawl at the front window, her silhouette illuminated by the roaring fire in the grate behind her. Yet she still felt cold inside. Reece had left several hours earlier, claiming to need to gather more firewood, though the stack against the wall was enough to burn for days.

There was a cry from the small of the bedrooms, and with one last furtive glance out the window, Dora turned her back on the rain and went to her boys room.

Aidan standing next to the small cradle that was Micah's bed. The toddler was screaming, face red from lack of air, and eyes squinted from sobbing. Aidan was trying to shush him. Patting his back and making faces, but the good try was to no avail. "Thank you Aidan." Dora said, moving him gently aside and picking up the wailing babe. She motioned for Aidan to get back into bed, and with one hand, covered him up when he did, then sat down next to him.

Rocking Micah in her arms, she looked down at the little halo of dark curls around his face, and saw her husband. "Tut tut tut, my wee bitty." She whispered to him, and looked at Aidan. "Are you scared too?" Aidan shook his head, chin jutted defiantly, but when a sudden crash of lightening brightened the room, his eyes grew wide and he tensed. She laughed.

"Close your eyes." Dora watched him close his eyes slowly, and then began to sing.

"O ba ba mo leanabh

Ba mo leanabh, ba

O ba ba mo leanabh

Ni mo leanabhs' an ba ba

Dhìrich mi bheinn mhòr gun anal

Dhìrich agus thearn

Chuirinn falt mo chinn fo d' chasan

Agus craicionn mo dhà làimh

Oh hush-a-bye, my little baby

Hush, my little baby, hush

Oh hush-a-bye my little baby

My own little baby will go to sleep

I breathlessly climbed the great mountain

I climbed and I descended

I would put the hair of my head under your feet

And the skin of my two hands.."

Her babe and her boy were silent.


	3. Chapter3: 1885,1897: Of Angels and Babes

**Chapter 3 – Of Angels and Babes**

_May 1885_

He was running through a park, blurring past emerald shrubs as fast as his legs would take him, aiming for his Mam where she lay on a blanket in the shade of a tree. She was propped against its trunk with her legs outstretched and a book in her hand.

Making sure not to hit Micah where he lay sleeping, Aidan flew to her side and sat propped on his heels, laughing. At the sound of his laughter, Dora looked up. Her eyes, as pale a blue as his, regarded him carefully, and seeing the flush of excitement in his cheeks and eyes, and no sign of injury, smiled. It was as though a secret sun had come out of hiding. Her cheeks glowed profusely, her long blond hair waved in the gentle summer breeze.

"Mammy…" Aidan whispered in awe, looking at her carefully. "You look like an angel."

Her cream colored dress laid out around her, it was evident how slender Dora was, even now with the beginnings of a bump showing on her abdomen.

"Oh hush," she laughed, "I'm no angel. I'm just yer Mam. Perhaps one day I'll be an angel, but not now. Not when I've got my wee ones to care for." She motioned with her right hand to the sleeping toddler at her side. Already tanned enough to match his father, a halo of dark curls surrounded the boys face, resting on his plump cheeks.

"Mammy…" Aidan pouted. "I can take care of Micah. I'm big."

Dora reached out and stroked the side of his chubby face, "I know doll. And that's why Mam's going to need some help soon. It's a job for a big boy, so I don't know if you're ready yet." She feigned pausing thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should ask Frankie instead…"

Thrilled with the idea of getting to do a job, and a big boy job no less, Aidan bounced up and down at her side. "No Mam. No. I'm bigger than Frankie. I can do it. I can help you."

"Are you ready then? You'll have to listen closely."

Aidan nodded again.

"Alright." Dora adjusted herself on the ground, and pulled Aidan's small hand and put it onto her stomach. "Do you remember how Micah came here?" she asked.

"He was in your tummy. And then he came out."

"That's right. And do you know what's in Mammy's tummy right now?" she asked, eyebrows arched gently.

"Another Micah?" Aidan offered, looking skeptical.

"Almost." She laughed. "Another baby. But this one isn't going to be a Micah."

Aidan's face fell. "Oh. Well, what is it going to be?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe another handsome wee boy for me to bring up to be a gentleman. Or perhaps a wee girl for me to teach to be a lady." Dora closed her eyes for a moment when the baby kicked, and then smiled down at her son. "If it's a boy we'll name him Clarence, after your Grandpa, and if it's a lass –" she paused. "Well, what do you think we should name her?"

Aidan scrunched his face up thoughtfully, thinking hard and careful. He looked around the park, at the birds flying, and opened up his mouth carefully.

"We are not naming a girl Finch." she said, delicately placing her finger on the tip of his nose. Aidan grinned. "I've been thinking about Clara, after your Grammy…" she offered. "What do you think about that?"

He wasn't listening too closely. Aidan's eyes were back on the birds as they flew down into the birdbath. "Bird bath, bird bath." He chanted, rocking side to side, before stopping suddenly. "Beth."

"Beth?" Dora repeated slowly, as though trying out the word on her tongue. "Beth Conlon…" she made a face, and was quiet for a minute. "Maybe we can choose that one if your Da will let us."

"Mammy?" Aidan said, after a moment's pause. "Why do we have to chose only one? Couldn't we make it two names? Like your name! Diary Anne."

A smile cracked on Dora's face as she laughed. "Dora-Ann, dear. My name is Dora-Ann. And that's a wonderful idea. We could call her Clara-Beth." She looked down at Aidan. "What do you think about that?"

"Clara-Beth Conlon?" Aidan repeated. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, and then grinned widely. "It sounds like a fairy name."

Dora laughed again. "And she'll be every bit the fairy princess, but ours of course."

"I'll have to protect her!" Aidan cried, springing to his feet.

"Shhh!"

Dora motioned to Micah, still sleeping at her side.

Aidan giggled quietly behind his hand. He picked a stick up, and then whispered loudly. "I'll have to protect the fairy princess, or the king will try to come and take her away to Tir Nan Og!"

"That's right. And you know, whether this baby is a boy or a girl, that's just what you're going to have to do. Because you might be all the baby has. And as a big brother, and a big boy, you need to make sure that nobody hurts the baby, or Micah. No matter what, this is Mam's job for you. Alright?" Her fingers clenched the chain she always wore around her neck, a silver chain with a silver key dangling on it.

Aidan nodded. For a few moments he played with the hem of her skirt as she watched, and then stopped.

"Mammy…? Is being a big brother fun?"

Dora looked at him sweetly. "It can be. It will be hard. Micah and the other'n will make you very upset sometimes, but you need to remember that you love them. And they love you. You can't let your anger get in the way of that. Your family is everything, and you are everything to your family."

He smiled up at her and settled down at her side, lying his head on her lap.

_September 14, 1885_

Aidan opened his eyes and looked around the room. Micah was asleep in his cot a few feet away, and the door was closed. It was illuminated fully by sunlight, which only ever happened just before lunchtime. Curious, he sat up, and peeked out the window. Mammy wasn't in the garden.

Pushing back the covers, Aidan climbed out of bed, and went quietly to the door. He turned the knob, and pulled it open, before slipping through it and out into the dark hallway. For a moment he stood there, listening to the quiet of the house, before moving down the passage towards the kitchen.

Bright in comparison to the hall, it was clean, and empty. The sun was filtering in through the curtains, and settling on every inch of unoccupied space.

"Mam…?" he whispered, as though afraid to break the silence.

His voice, quiet as it was, echoed back to him hollowly. After waiting a moment, Aidan then turned towards the front living area. He was just crossing the threshold when a knock on the front door surprised him so that he jumped into the air, and squeaked.

Aidan stood for a moment, staring transfixed at the door, and the shadow he could see on the curtain. Then he moved, painstakingly slow, unlocked the door, and turned the handle.

On the front step, with her hat tied beneath her chin, Mrs. O'Grady stood looking expectant. Her long black hair was curled around her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes peered down at him as her expression changed to one of confusion.

"Where's your Mam, boy?" she asked.

He paused, silent for a moment. "I don't know."

Mrs. O'Grady continued speaking over his murmured lack of knowledge, as she tried to see past him into the house. "She asked me to call on account of some cans of jelly she'd made for the church auction tomorrow morning."

She finally stopped, seeing his worry, and asked once again, though more gently. "Where's your Mam?"

"I don't know Miss." He said gently.

She pushed the door open further and entered. While she closed the door behind her, she reassured him. "I'm sure she's around somewhere, love. Did you check the bedroom?"

Aidan shook his head. He hadn't had the chance to get there yet when she'd knocked.

"Then check there, alright?" Mrs. O'Grady was undoing the tie on her hat, and set it on the back of Mam's rocking chair.

He didn't move.

"Well…?" she said, eyebrows arched delicately. "Are ye going to look?"

Just then, his stomach growled loudly, and he looked down at it. Her eyes followed, and the question on her face dissolved into calm understanding.

"Go check the bedroom, and any other places you haven't looked, alright? I'll put some tea on and make you some porridge." She headed into the kitchen, and when she disappeared around the corner, he turned and headed towards his Mam's room.

The door was closed as well, so he knocked softly, afraid to enter. He remembered her being upset one day when he'd entered and she'd been in her nightgown. There was no response, so after another moment of silent waiting, he turned the handle and went in.

Mam was in her bed, her golden curls splayed out around her head on her pillow. Her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were pink, and as he crept towards her, he could see her lips were pale. Carefully, he raised his right hand, his index finger outstretched to touch her hand and maybe wake her.

"Oh!" From the door, Mrs. O'Grady exclaimed quietly, and Aidan turned to see her with one hand on the door, the other covering her mouth. "Okay boy, let's you leave her be. Go sit in the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."

Aidan backed away from his mother and moved towards the door when Mrs. O'Grady shooed him away from his mother. She then turned back to the still body, not knowing that Aidan was watching silently from the door.

Mrs. O'Grady moved to where Aidan had been only a few moments earlier. For a moment she stood there, observing quietly the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the gently pulsing vein in her exposed neck. She reached out, and gingerly laid her hand on Dora's, rubbing it softly in an attempt to stir her.

Dora's eyes blinked slowly open, and moved to sit, looking confused. But a throbbing pain from her abdomen shocked her and she lay back against the pillows, her hands moving quickly to her large stomach.

"Is it the baby?" Mrs. O'Grady asked hurriedly, eyes wide.

Dora smiled weakly and shook her head. "No, just aching. Probably just gas of the stomach. I'll be fine." At the look from Mrs. O'Grady, she gave her a pointed look. "I don't believe it to be labor. Besides, there's a lot more must be done before the harvest."

Mrs. O'Grady looked at her carefully, at the pallor of her face, and then tutted quietly. "If it's labor, it's labor. You can't decide when it will come, and you can't stop it."

"I'm not trying to stop it, but I'm not going to encourage it, neither." Dora snapped, and then her face softened apologetically. "I'm just going to sleep it off. I'm sure I'll feel better."

There was a moment of tense silence; Dora was trying to keep her face composed through the pain radiating through her abdomen, and Mrs. O'Grady trying to find the pain and decide how to go about things. She finally came to a decision.

"Alright, Dora dear." She said, fluffing the pillows and fixing the blankets. "If you're so determined, then you sleep. But I'm going to get the midwife, and once I come back, I'm not leaving until your fit, or your Reece gets home. Your boys need someone to take care of them while you're confined to bed, and I daresay you'll need some caretaking as well." As though to emphasize the point, Mrs. O'Grady picked up the empty glass of water on the nightstand. She turned to retrieve Aidan from the kitchen, but stopped herself when she saw him at the door.

"Oh! Well then, if you're already here –" Mrs. O'Grady turned back to Dora. "Aidan will get you everything you need until I return. Don't worry. I shan't be gone more than two hours, as I'll have to get Madeleine to watch Curtis and the younger boys."

Dora protested weakly from the bed. "Mrs. O'Grady, I'm sure everything's fine. You don't have to –"

"Don't have to." Mrs. O'Grady agreed. "But I should. Two boys, and you bedridden? And with Reece and most of the working men way in the fields out south, there's none else to help you." When Dora opened her mouth again to speak, Mrs. O'Grady shushed her quickly and then backed towards the door, leaving Aidan inside the room. "I'll dress and feed your youngest, and take him with me to town. I will return."

With that, Mrs. O'Grady turned from the room and went down the hall. There was some murmuring, a few muffled comments from Micah, and then the noise moved temporarily to the kitchen, before disappearing with a bang from the front door.

Aidan hadn't moved.

Dora looked at her son, and smiled gently. "Will you get me some tea love?" she asked, adjusting her position on the bed with a wince. While he ran off down the hall, the urge to use the washroom overwhelmed her, and she swung her legs out of the bed.

Aidan returned just as she did, and held the cup of tea out to her. However, Dora didn't seem to be reaching for it. She was bent slightly over, hands on her hips and lower back, breathing loudly and funny.

"Mammy?" Aidan asked. "Are you alright?"

She laughed, forcefully, and nodded. "Just sit – set the tea down on the table – yes, just there – and sit." She watched him climb up onto the kitchen chair in the corner, and caught his frightened eyes.

"Is the baby coming now?"

With another laugh, Dora shook her head. "No, I'm sure it's just some ailment." She forced herself to straighten slowly as a show of strength, offering "See?" to her young son. But almost immediately after she'd become completely straight, she had to bend in half again as the pain returned, accompanied by a rush of liquid from between her legs.

For a moment all either Dora or Aidan could do was stare, and then Dora started talking. "The baby." She caught Aidan's eyes, and then looked back down at the mess on the floor. "Get some towels dear. Wipe up that mess. And I'll need you to put the kettle on, and gather Mammy a few buckets of water from the pump."

"And an empty bucket!" she added as an afterthought.

Aidan disappeared for a moment, and then returned to Dora, who was completely unaware of his being there as she fought the screams that threatened. She could not scare her boy, or he'd not be able to help her the way she needed.

Aidan threw the towels on the floor and then left, banging the back door shut as he headed to the pump.

Every few minutes, the aching in Dora's abdomen grew, until she found her self on her hands and knees because of the level of pain. It was all she could do to just breathe through the surges, as though she were being assaulted by the winds of a hurricane with no warning. Eventually, she felt, rather than saw, Aidan next to her, trying to hold her hand.

"Mammy." He asked, voice brave. "What do you need?"

She couldn't ask him to stay. In fact, she should probably tell him to leave. He shouldn't be there while she was giving birth, but she couldn't see any way to avoid it.

"Aidan." Dora whispered, voice as soft as possible. "Mammy's going to be hurting. She might cry, or scream, and she might scare you. But you need to do what she says. And don't leave Mammy alone. Alright?"

"Yes Mammy."

"Get one of the buckets, and a rag." She heard his footsteps leave, and come racing back almost instantly. "Now wet a cloth, and wipe my face. It doesn't matter if I get wet. Just keep my face and neck wet with cold water."

It seemed like hours. Her palms and knees began to ache from being on them, but Dora had not the energy to move to the bed or the bathroom. With each surge of pain from within, a thousand thoughts came with it. 'Where are Mrs. O'Grady and the midwife? … Is the baby okay? … Am I going to die? No. She wouldn't leave her children behind. …Where was Micah? With Mrs. O'Grady, that's right. And Aidan's here. He mustn't be scared. I need him to be strong.' The only solace she could fathom was the pattern of cool refreshment that was no longer exclusive on her head and neck, but also on the bits of her arms and legs that were accessible.

When the pain began to cross a threshold she didn't know possible, Dora was filled with the irresistible urge to push, and despite having nobody but her five year old son, she did, crying out between each one. "Ahhhh! … Aidan… Back, put your hands …" A scream. "Put them near the floor … between …" A gasp for breath. "Between my knees."

There were a few moments of scuffling as Aidan moved to find the right spot. Dora's cries were muffled by the pursing of her lips until it was finally too difficult to suppress them and she gave a final loud shriek.

Into Aidan's hands something wet fell. He couldn't see, because of the folds of his mother's once-white nightgown.

Just then there was a clamoring at the door, and Mrs. O'Grady and the midwife walked in. The shock on their face was obvious. Facing them, the elegant and reputedly beautiful Dora Conlon, on her hands and knees, soaking wet, and shaking. And behind her, a five-year-old boy with his mother's eyes and hair, with a little goo-covered _thing_ in his hands, smudges of red on his arms, and his little blue pajamas soaked.

Aidan was immediately relieved by Mrs. O'Grady who took him to the bathroom to bathe him quickly, before making him dress and sitting him down at the kitchen with Micah for a meal of toast and porridge. When the frizzy red haired lady told Mrs. O'Grady the boys could come back in, it had been almost two hours.

Afraid to see his mother again after the way she'd been screaming, Aidan was tentative as he went around the corner into the bedroom. But his mother was smiling. Her hair was combed, she was in a new nightgown, and the mess of buckets and towels had disappeared. When he finally had the courage to look at her face, the tear streaks were gone, and she was smiling at him, and holding out her left hand, as the right had something in it.

It was all the invitation he needed. Aidan climbed up onto the bed next to her, and crawled over.

Her words to him were simple. "My little man. You're so grown up." Dora whispered to him. She kissed his cheeks and pulled him to her for a one armed hug. When he settled back down cross-legged, she held out the bundle in her arms. "Would you like to see your new baby sister?" she asked.

Aidan's eyes lit up as he looked at her. "Clara-Beth?" His voice was hushed, as she nodded and deposited the tiny bundle onto his lap.

He looked down, knowing already what he wanted to say to this new little baby, his little sister.

"Clara-Beth, you are a treasure in a treasure box, inside a safe box in my heart." He paused, thoughtful, and looked at his mother. "I will love you, always and forever."

_May 1897, New York City_

It was bright. Much too bright. Micah must've left the curtains open the night before when he came in from looking at the stars from the fire escape. He groaned, and rolled over to adjust his pillow over his head, but when he moved, he realized there was no softness to his pillow; There were only lumps, bumpy bits, and hard objects. He was not in bed. And the sounds were not of cooking or movement in the apartment, but that of horses hooves, and carts.

Aidan opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around him. Across the street, at a restaurant called O'Malley's, a man was staring at him. So he looked down at himself.

He was sitting on a park bench, on the edge of Central Park, if he was correct. He must be, as he and Micah had been to this very location numerous times. So had he fallen asleep? Aidan pressed his hand to his temple, groaning at the headache. He strained to recall the events of the night before, but could not seem to remember.

He was in his brown trousers, he noticed. So no special event. And wearing a plain white shirt beneath a plaid button up. Normal clothing. His pillow, Aidan realized, was his pack. It seemed bursting at the seams, pressing out in odd ways and barely staying closed, despite the knot it was tied shut by. Why he'd be carrying this, let alone sleeping on it, he had no idea, and even less idea about how it got so full. He knew for certain that he could never fill it more than halfway. He'd have to go through it, though not at this location, or time.

Aidan reached into his pockets subconsciously, but brought out a package wrapped in brown paper and string. Furrowing his eyebrows, Aidan undid the knots, and unfolded it carefully. He had to force his face to stay calm, and his hands not to drop it, as he realized that, yes, every single piece of his mother's jewelry (her wedding ring, Claddagh ring, mother's pendant, little silver cross on a silver chain, and all her odds and ends jewelry bits) were in the package.

Carefully looking around to see if anybody had been watching him, Aidan closed the package, tied it, and tucked it neatly into his waistband.

He needed to go home, surely. Mother would want her jewels back from the cleaners, where he realized he'd taken it a week before, if he remembered correctly. So Aidan stood up, hoisted his pack onto his back, and began to walk.

He didn't get far before he realized what would've woken him had the sun not. Aidan's stomach gave a very audible growl, and so he stopped at a fruit vendor down the street to buy an apple with some change he found in his pocket.

Just before turning back down the street, Aidan caught sight of himself in the reflection on the windows, and couldn't help but stare. He hadn't seen himself in so long.

He was taller now, almost as tall as his father, which wasn't saying much, and a little slimmer than him as well. His limbs seemed almost lanky, though the muscle was evident beneath his thin clothing. Aidan's eyes were truly his mother's. So pale a blue that they nearly seemed white, while still being green. And his hair, also his mother's hay color, was shaggy and in tousled disarray. No longer a little boy, he thought, proud to be seventeen.

Aidan jutted his jaw without thinking, and resolutely turned away from the window, one hand holding the apple, the other unconsciously going to the chain around his neck on which hung his mother's key.


End file.
